


Morning After...

by Sys



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 10:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sys/pseuds/Sys
Summary: Peter and Thomas have a slightly altered second meeting.





	Morning After...

**Author's Note:**

> This story will make remarkably more sense to you if you've read _Evil Night Together_ (thanks to Zoya for reminding me that I should go by full titles rather than shortened ones)... but I'm terrible with writing WIPs, so I prefer not to add this as a second chapter to that one. It'll also give everyone a chance to ignore this one if they don't feel it's a fair continuation of the aforementioned story.

When I got to the sushi place where Neblett had told me to meet one DCI Nightingale, I was surprised to find Thomas sitting at one of the tables. I was also ridiculously envious of the person who would meet him (I doubted the seat facing him would’ve remained empty if it hadn’t been his intent to keep it so), as if I didn’t know that we’d shared something that wouldn’t be repeated. Our paths had crossed for a night, we hadn’t bonded for life. So I looked around the place, trying to figure out who looked most like a seasoned copper, but while the place was busy enough, everyone else seemed to be talking to someone.  
I considered greeting Thomas, tell him I was waiting for someone and, if he was, too, would he like to talk while we were both waiting? But it sounded ridiculous, even in my own mind. And as a matter of principle I try not to follow through on ridiculous ideas.  
For a minute or two I contemplated checking the menu. Grab a tea or coffee, anything to work on my dry throat. But the thought of having a full bladder for an interview as important as this one might prove to my future... no, grabbing whatever they had to drink was still an option when the Inspector arrived. That left me with a head full of memories of all the things I’d done with Thomas. And the opportunity to study him in broad daylight, which didn’t paint him any less handsome, if perhaps a little older than I’d assumed.  
While I was entertaining the crazy idea of skipping my interview, grabbing the man’s hand and finding the nearest place not covered by CCTV to push him up against the wall and kiss him... he looked up from his sushi, and smiled that odd, anxious smile of his.  
‘Hello Peter,’ he said.  
I offered him a lame wave to acknowledge that I’d seen him. But really, any daydreaming about making my case to him about a repeat of our adventure... maybe if that damned interview was a little less future-deciding.  
‘Would you like to sit down?’  
I shook my head. ‘I’m here to meet someone.’  
Which was pretty much the same situation I’d been in when we last met. But this time the meeting was scheduled. And with a superior officer no less.  
He nodded, looking, if that was possible, even more apprehensive. ‘I know.’  
Now that was just a little creepy. Much as I wanted to take the man’s clothes off for him, the idea that he was stalking me... I didn’t get to finish the thought when Thomas reached for his warrant card and introduced himself.  
I may have given in to the temptation of swearing. Loudly. My mom would’ve been shocked to hear me.  
Thomas Nightingale winced ever so slightly. And very quietly asked me to please keep my voice down in public. But I wasn’t going to let the man tell me how to react to that particular piece of news. Which is how we were very politely asked to please leave. Or rather, I was asked to leave and for some strange reason Thomas seemed to consider that his cue to leave with me.

It took me a while to walk off my anger, but when I’d made up my mind not to throw away my future, Thomas was still beside me and we had somehow managed to make it to a park area through no intention of mine. (I can keep track of traffic well enough not to be run over, but don’t expect me to pay attention to where I’m heading when I’m angry. Or frustrated. Maybe disappointed? Confused would be putting it too mildly.)  
‘Talk,’ I ordered, dropping on a nearby bench. When he awkwardly stood beside me, I frowned and looked at the bench, prompting him to sit. Not that I particularly wanted him to sit with me. But him standing beside me with parts of him I was still woefully interested in too close to my face? No thanks. It wasn’t that he looked like that thought had occurred to him. But I needed to get it out of _my_ mind.  
After he was done talking I couldn’t make up my mind if he was crazy, or I was. But pinching myself just hurt, it didn’t do anything to wake me up from the weirdest dream I ever had. If it hadn’t been for the bloody ghost I’d talked to, I would’ve got up there and then and told him to screw his offer to team up with him and help him with his investigation. But I’m curious by nature. And I’ve read my fair share of fantasy literature featuring wizards with all sorts of origin stories. So instead of questioning how on earth he knew about my ghost, I decided to play along.  
‘Show me.’  
He looked reluctant. Rose. Turned around, studying the surroundings, though I doubted that any policemen _needed_ to be that obvious about it. I could’ve cased the area with less fuss. And he’d made it a couple of ranks above me. When he had satisfied himself that we were alone (really, not even any school skipping kids who couldn’t have ratted on us anyway without implementing themselves), he asked me to switch off my phone.  
‘Why?’ I’d like to say I’m cautious like that, but I mostly just wanted to know.  
‘Casting spells interferes with technology.’  
I was half-tempted to ignore the warning, but something in those darned soft, grey eyes convinced me to obey. Once that last obstacle was out of the way he produced a light with the palm of his hand. Didn’t even need a wand or anything. Just those beautiful fingers that felt fantastic roaming... no wonder he could do magic. The thought didn’t turn me on. Not much.  
‘Okay,’ I said, trying not to sound impressed. ‘I’ll consider your offer.’  
‘You’re under no obligation...’  
‘No,’ I agreed. ‘I said I’d _consider_ it. Do you have a card?’  
He provided me with one. I’d pretty much made up my mind already, but when you’re on a budget, you learn to pace yourself so your money lasts till you get paid again. Or longer if there’s something you gotta save up for. Say an action figure of the ninth doctor. Or a light sabre. Not that I’m speaking from experience, mind. Just like I wasn’t currently assessing how many stories I like feature innocent bystanders getting dragged into some sort of adventure as the identification figure for the reader or viewer. And how many of those suffered dearly in one way or another.  
‘I’ll be in touch.’ I said, dismissing him.  
Only when he’d walked away to whatever else he did with his life, I realised that telling him _when_ would’ve been a nice touch. But truth be told, I wasn’t sure when I’d be suitably sure. And there was no way I’d tell Lesley what happened to talk things through. Telling her about the job offer would be one thing, perhaps even mentioning the wizard thing and my ghost. But I couldn’t very well tell her about having sex with the man who’d offered to take me under his wing. And that was a pretty crucial piece to the puzzle she’d be missing in offering me advice. There was nothing remotely professional about working with a man you had sex with. But part of me was already planning how on earth I’d get him to teach me to do magic.


End file.
